A sad story about spilling the beans and why that was the best decision I ever made.
In April, I found out I was pregnant. Alex and I were overjoyed. We'd started trying for a baby just earlier that month and were ecstatic that it happened for us so quickly. We celebrated on our own for a few days before telling our immediate family. We started dreaming of our future, thinking up baby names, and imagining our life with a new little human in it!
I went in for a 6 week ultrasound and heard the sweet sweet sound of the little bean's heartbeat. We had pictures of our little bean up on our fridge and baby's very first video saved on our phones. I started reading up on pregnancy and planning for the bean's arrival (due on New Years Day!). I downloaded an app to track the bean's growth. After seeing a healthy little embryo on the screen squirming around and because I was suffering from some hard-to-hide morning sickness, I told a few more family members and a handful of trusted colleagues and friends...spilling the beans about my bean.
When I went in at 8 weeks and 2 days for another ultrasound, I knew early on that something was wrong. The doctor probed around for what felt like forever with the vaginal ultrasound wand before gently letting me know that there was no heartbeat. The bean had stopped growing at around 6.5 week and my pregnancy was no longer viable. I had experienced a missed miscarriage: when the baby dies but the mom's body doesn't accept it and continues to act as if it's pregnant. Since the little bean was still an embryo and had not yet developed into a fetus, no tests were able to be done to determine the cause of the miscarriage. We'd never find out exactly what happened. My body hadn't yet expelled the dead embryo and with no signs of my hormone levels dropping and no bleeding or spotting at all, my doctor suggested medical intervention.
I was absolutely devastated.
In an effort to speed along my miscarriage in the most "natural" way possible, I was prescribed an antibiotic, pain killers, anti-nausea medicine, and misoprostol aka the abortion pill. That pill was by far the worst drug I've ever taken. I had to stuff 4 of them into my cheeks and wait for them to dissolve for about 30 minutes resulting in the most severe nausea I've ever felt (and that was after having taken the prescribed anti-nausea meds). Once they did dissolve, I suddenly felt freezing cold. I ran a fever. I shook uncontrollably for 40 minutes. I writhed in pain as my uterus contracted and I gave birth to an intact placenta...among other things. I bled heavily for 8 hours. The emotional struggle was just as horrific as the physical trauma. I felt the saddest I've ever felt in my life, likely thanks to the pregnancy hormones still very much present in my system. I wept inconsolably for my bean who I prayed was in heaven. Alex helped me delete the bean video and dispose of the bean photos (which I tearfully kissed so many times).
It was heartbreaking.
I continued to feel generally horrible in the week that followed as I counted down the days until I saw my doctor again. I found myself doubled over in pain regularly and was nauseous all the time. At my follow up appointment, an ultrasound revealed that there were "products of conception" left behind in my womb. I was still testing positive for pregnant, my expanded uterus hadn't yet shrunk back to its normal size, and my hormone levels weren't yet dropping. The miscarriage was incomplete and more medical intervention was needed. And so, I was scheduled for a D&C (dilation and curettage).
A few days later, I headed to a hospital on the upper east side for outpatient surgery. I needed to be under general anesthesia but it was comforting to know I'd be home in my own bed at the end of the day. I arrived at the hospital at 10:15 and left at 3:15. The entire process felt very clinical which was oddly comforting. The only pain I experienced after the surgery was when I urinated due to the catheter needed for the procedure. (This luckily went away after about 48 hours). I only had minor cramps in the week that followed and my bleeding had slowed significantly. Lucky for me, Aunt Iris was there for me the entire day and in the days that followed.
During the week after the D&C I felt sluggish and tired. I was under doctor's orders not to take baths or swim for two weeks and not to workout until the bleeding stopped. My heart was heavy with sadness and my body was tired from all it had endured. I started noticing pregnancy symptoms fading away (farewell big boobs, see ya later mood swings, sayonara nausea, bye bye heightened sense of smell).
Soon enough, I was back at the doctor's office for a post-op check-up. I was told that my uterus was back to its normal size and empty, and that all my lady organs looked healthy. I was free to heal on my own. I was even informed that my husband and I could try for another baby as soon as we felt ready.
The bleeding petered off and eventually stopped 15 days
after the D&C. 24 straight days of bleeding. I went back to my normal
workout regimen and resumed my pre-miscarriage schedule. But it wasn't until my
period arrived (with a vengeance! In fact, I needed to visit the doctor a final
time. She diagnosed menorrhagia and did some blood work to make sure all was
good - it was!), that I stopped feeling like a science experiment and finally
felt like myself again. This was 51 days from the date I took those awful pills
or exactly 6 weeks after the D&C.
I had spilled the beans about my little bean early. My nearest and dearest knew what was going on, and for that, I am grateful. I received a tremendous amount of support. I felt heard and understood by women who had been through a miscarriage too. Friends and family members sent flowers, treats, candles, journals, food, and heaps of cards and texts. I had loved ones who called, who came by for just a hug, who slowly walked silently beside me in the park, who listened to my pain and let me share my burden with them. I took comfort in knowing that I was never alone. I couldn't pretend I was okay. I couldn't be silent about this huge thing going on in my life.
Alex, as always, was a huge support, and through this tragedy, he was especially wonderful. He cooked me dinner, made me tea, encouraged me to spend time with my girlfriends, talked to me gently, rocked me while I cried, and planned a fantastic vacation for us to look forward to at the end of the summer. He was grieving our loss too but he hadn't spill the beans as extensively as I had, and instead buried himself in his work. After my final doctor's appointment, he shared our sad news with a few of his close friends and I think that's helped him tremendously.
In addition to my friends and family, my therapist was a valuable resource throughout this horrible journey. She helped talk me through the complicated feelings I was experiencing, gave me space to cry and grieve, and equipped me with tools to get through it all.
More than 1 in 5 pregnancies ends in miscarriage. My heart goes out to those who feel they can't talk about it because I don't think I could have gotten through this alone. I learned that opening myself up and being vulnerable is difficult, scary, painful, and ultimately so good for me.
It's been rough miscarrying my first pregnancy. I wonder if I'll ever get pregnant again. (I hope I will) I wonder if I'll ever have to go through this horror again. (I hope I don't) I've come to accept this loss, although a piece of my heart will always ache for this little bean. For now, I'm just happy to close this chapter and move forward.
